


But I Can't Help

by Ineffable Storm (TheOncomingStorm)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Also see: I tried to be accurate, Angst and Feels, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Not Oblivious (Good Omens), Character Study, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Forbidden Love, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), god is a woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOncomingStorm/pseuds/Ineffable%20Storm
Summary: In 1967 Aziraphale was afraid of it ending.In 1793 Crowley tried to enjoy crépes.During Armageddon God was contemplative.And two days after Armageddon, it all came to an end.Or; A look into the feelings of two beings in love with each other, an observer playing Her own games, and how no restraints allow for exploration.





	1. Wise Men Say, Only Fools Rush In

**Author's Note:**

> All of this fic was written to 'Can't Help Falling In Love' and served as heavy inspiration for the title, and chapter titles. 
> 
> Aziraphale's POV is specifically a version by Tommee Profitt and Brooke, the light version.
> 
> Also the Shambles in York is a lovely place to visit, as is the market that exists there now. But it is very narrow with towering buildings, the gargoyles do watch everybody, and the tea rooms are quite lovely. It was nice writing somewhere I often end up being a Yorkshire lad.

**1967, Soho, London **

Closing the door to the bookshop behind him, Aziraphale let out a long sigh as he moved to lean against the wood. Tilting his head gently back against the glass and closed blind, eyes closed against the fluorescent lights seeping under the heavy fabric. Listening to the sounds outside his shop, talking animated and footsteps heavy and then, finally, the sound of an engine starting. Slowly familiar but fading quickly signalling the disappearance of Crowley. Allowing Aziraphale to let his heart calm from that brief encounter with the demon. 

A handful of sentences had left him worked up and a pain in his chest. Overwhelmed by it. 

Once the engine was completely faded Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked at the towering shelves of his store. Silently praying to himself as he wondered truly why Crowley had wanted the Holy Water. If it was the reason Aziraphale thought, or what Crowley insinuated. Neither were really comforting, and it was why he’d spoken afraid and softly in the car. 

_ “You go to fast for me, Crowley.” _

It wasn’t a matter if the demon went too fast or not, rather how much fear Aziraphale had over it ending too quickly. 

Running a hand along his face, a heavy sigh left Aziraphale and he finally moved from the door. Walking slowly, and precisely, through the darkened bookshop for comfort. Fingers trailing across the spines of his beloved books that never changed or threatened to just… disappear. Because something out of their control demanded it so. As that was the threat underneath everything, between him and Crowley. At the end of the day, as much they acted as friends, partners in a sense with the arrangement, they were on opposite sides and that could all go pear shaped in a moments notice. 

The request for Holy Water only reaffirmed that uncertainty. 

Be it by a wrong step, their respective offices or something they can’t plan for, it was all rather uncertain. Uncontrollable, especially when emotions are involved.

Glancing to his desk, the angel let his eyes drift across to the book still laid open beside it on a stand. Perhaps not his singular favourite book of his collection, but it was among the several he owned that may share that title. All his books were special in their own ways. It was why it held a place of pride at his desk, most days. When the sun wouldn’t cause the pages to age before Aziraphale was ready for it to do. 

A tight smile formed, and Aziraphale walked over to his desk. Moving to remove his coat carefully and hang it over the back of his chair. Eyes still on the book as he did so, a method and set habit as he got lost in his thoughts staring at the book. The drawing on one of the pages and caused a great feeling of fondness in his chest. A gift, a book that saw several printings and told a story so common even a child would recite the basic concept if asked. But that fondness is why Aziraphale left it on display. 

* * *

**1603, The Shambles, York**

Aziraphale was staring in a shop window when he felt the presence of someone close by. A shadow looming in the stained glass, and the demon was all for dramatics still. This was his idea of a place to meet, out of view and they could blend into the rush of the market and shops in the Shambles of York. It would be hard to notice them easily here, even the buildings offered protection as they tightly extended upwards. 

“I’m not sure I should be impressed by your idea to meet here, or insulted by the smell.” Speaking lightly and not yet looking back, Aziraphale did wonder what had caused the note to arrive arranging the meeting. 

A small hum came, and Crowley moved to turn his back on the window. “Be impressed, surely. Crowded, dark and covered while remaining charming. Except for the gargoyles, they’re incredibly ugly and nosey.” Crowley had looked up then, pulling a face of dislike before continuing, “and there is food nearby, a little tea shop I’m sure you’ll enjoy. If you can be  _ tempted _ .”

The tone spoken to him wasn’t conveying any need of urgency. Rather it sounded aloof, friendly, and Aziraphale straightened up and finally glanced to the demon. Taking in his longer hair pulled back today in a ribbon, with only a single curl hanging by his ear with the snake. Glasses covering his eyes as normal and his goatee was coming in slowly. And of course he was in all black again. 

“Stop it, you serpent. I still do not know why you wanted to meet up, so you will not tempt me anywhere. And, well, ever.” 

Over the top of Crowley’s glasses peered one snake eye, a brow raising before a sharp grin came. Sharp points of his teeth showing and Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You wound me, I was simply in the area on a job, and sensed your blinding grace that reminded me of something I wished to part with. Nothing sinful or demonic, don’t worry.” 

Rocking on his feet, Crowley then raised a wrapped package bound by string held in his hand. Shaking it a little, like you would a bone to a dog. That was obviously tempting and it… it was working. A little. The shape was very rectangular and had the distinct shape of a book. Though why Crowley would have a book to give him, that wasn’t demonic or sinful, Aziraphale didn’t know and that made him all the more curious. 

Glancing around, it was growing harder to say no. “Are we giving each other gifts now? As I have nothing in return.” 

“Nah, I saw it and it amused me. I know how much you’ve taken to books, so thought ‘why not see if it amused him as well.’” The package was shook again, a slight look of longing forming on Aziraphale’s face before he sighed. Overly dramatic and waving a hand to the demon. 

“Well, you mentioned a tea room nearby. I assume it’s nearer the market, or is it further into the tight roads.” The responding grin was animalistic, and a strong reminder that Crowley was naturally imbued to being in the shape of a snake. Though did snakes smile? Surely not, that would be difficult with wide mouths and un-hingeable jaws, but Aziraphale didn’t dare ask the Serpent of Eden.

The tea room aforementioned wasn’t far, but still among the streets rather than the buildings surrounding the market. Close enough to still offer cover, but far enough out that it wasn’t seedy and really, it was rather loved when they eventually walked in. It smelled of fresh bread and sugar, and the man who greeted them clearly enjoyed his business. Talking happily when Aziraphale ordered cake and a scone, a drink to go alongside it and after a small shake from Crowley’s head leaving it at that. 

Settling into a small table against the wall, under a small arrangement of flowers, Aziraphale gave a single glance around the room before settling back on Crowley who was sprawled a little in the chair. One leg extended out and a hand resting on the wrapped present still, lazy smile an accessory. “What brings you up here then, angel?” 

Rolling his eyes, tutting, Aziraphale hated when Crowley called him that. He’d been using it more often in their meetings, and while he knew Crowley hissed his name often it wasn’t an improvement. Maybe he should start calling Crowley ‘demon’ as had been compared in the past, see how he likes being labeled by what he was. “I am merely wandering, awaiting word from Above. There has been a lot of unrest recently, and so I wanted to try and bring some hope after that… idiot of a King.”

“More selfish than idiot. Think one of my lot did a bit of whispering, about a son. Or something. Didn’t really work out for him fully.” Crowley shrugged, running a darkened nail along the brown paper. Frowning behind his glasses and he didn’t feel like his current orders were going to end well. Or rather, it felt counter-intuitive after some other demon had spent several years setting up a King to reform an entire religion to suit his needs and form a new government. Why do all that if you then wanted some guy to go blow it all up. 

Tilting his head to look at Aziraphale, it wasn’t his place to comment and Aziraphale knew not to ask. Merely chide with a look for now, and eyes glanced down to the package again. “So. This is not just a work meeting.”

“Nope,” Crowley popped the word slightly, then straightened up when the ordered items arrived. Moving to prop his head on the table and wait until he had the angels attention back, as Aziraphale was currently eyeing the cake and scone eagerly. Already twirling the fork between thumb and finger, before the small serving boy had walked away, one coin richer. The demon waited until Aziraphale had had three bites of cake, filled with dried fruits of the last season, before he continued speaking. “All pleasure this time. Maybe this will make your journey north more… enjoyable.” 

Aziraphale gave a single glance, but Crowley knew by now to wait until the angel had finished eating. Gluttony would be Aziraphale’s sin if he ever fell. Fingers began to drum on the package, a slow sense of boredom forming as Crowley was left to watch the angel eat both the cake and then scone, silent except for his small sighs. To an onlooker, they’d consider the overall look of Crowley as someone showing fondness. 

After eating the last bite, Aziraphale let out a sigh and finally turned his attention back to the demon. “I wouldn’t push it that far, my dear. But I am intrigued. You are thinking very highly of something you wish to part with.” 

A light push brought the package across the table, Crowley moving to place a finger on the wooden plate and pick up a single crumb. “Mmyeah, well. It was amusing.” Then he placed his finger in his mouth and ate the single crumb while keeping eyes on the angel. 

Curiosity got the better of Aziraphale, moving to undo the string and with care unwrap the package. Of course it was a book, new with a dark leather cover, and he eyed the cover’s golden lettering. Frowning slightly as he ran a finger along the decorative swirls, before glancing back to the demon. Who was still looking as though he didn’t care. Nonchalant, despite the feeling of eyes on him. 

Carefully opening the book, Aziraphale turned the pages slowly. Not sure why this book would have taken Crowley’s attention for more than a quick glance, as while it was a lovely looking book it was all religious so far. Not a bible, but not a children's book of the bible either. Something of a scholar's insight to ancient stories. Though one chapter in it became obvious, as the text atop of the page wrote two names very familiar to them both. Writing beneath, scollary and informative breaking down the story, and to the right of it a full picture of full ink. Beautifully illustrated, painfully so marking this book as special really. 

The vines boarding the drawing were lush and green, leaves falling to frame a young lady, naked and mid bite, stood before a tree. Bearing apples, deep red and divine while a serpent hung from the branches. Black and with golden eyes, mouth parted mid speech, with an angel stood behind with a look of horror, and suddenly the reason it caught Crowley’s eyes was obvious. “O-oh,  _ Crowley… _ ”

* * *

**1967, Soho, London **

The serpent in the drawing was still vibrant, the black ink thick and unfaded despite the years passing. Honestly this was probably one of the better gifts Crowley had given him. A book, that on any other page would fit with the many Aziraphale owned; first edition, beloved and holding knowledge and stories. But this one was special, as it not only told a story, broke it down with scholarly words but had a picture someone had given love to create especially to this edition. The art showed the moment they, an angel and a demon, first met. As enemies. 

It was why it held importance and often remained open by his desk, unless he was expecting visitors. Much like the novelty of photographs, and paintings before that, it was like someone captured that moment in time just over five thousand years ago. A devastating moment, definitely, but theirs regardless. 

Bringing a finger up, Aziraphale gently caressed the ink. Tracing the serpent gently, and pausing before the golden eyes that pierced the page. Much like the true serpents eyes, even if they were often hidden and the soft smile that formed went unnoticed by the angel. No, this gift offered so much that maybe Crowley didn’t understand either. Especially now. It was a balm to the ache Aziraphale had whenever he considered Crowley too much, his actions and words. Sometimes the lack of both speaking more, as the demon was truly not all that demonic. Expending just as much energy towards the good as the bad, and Aziraphale ran his finger again along the serpent before leaning back in his chair. Staring through the small gap in the blind to the night scene outside his shop. A young couple walking by and the man leaning to press a tender kiss to his companions cheek. 

It was a shame Crowley could surely not feel the love Aziraphale had. 

The past few decades had hardly helped temper his feelings towards the demon, even if they had seen each other once to celebrate the end of all that war nonsense. Time had not made the feeling lessen than it had felt that night in the ruined church, rather as Propertius first penned ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’. The roman poet truly had a way of conveying love within his words, and glory. A clever man truly ahead of his time and inspiration to many. 

Aziraphale rested his hands atop his lap, feeling his cheeks heat as he realised he’d gotten lost in mental poetry he could associate with Crowley. Firmly reminding himself that the demon wouldn’t feel the same. Have fondness, in their friendship, but not love. Platonic or romantic. Demons had love burnt out of them, no matter how many times it felt like Aziraphale was shown otherwise through his actions. As even if Crowley could express it, at his core he wouldn’t be able to  _ feel  _ it. 

“I am a fool,” speaking quietly to himself, Aziraphale glanced across to the book again. Remembering the smile given over his joy at the gift, the softness barely masked behind tinted glass. A demon he may be, but he was a bad one to his core and Aziraphale brought a hand to cover his mouth. Closing eyes tightly as he knew Crowley could feel love. Had been showing it for thousands of years and Aziraphale was scared. 

Of what Heaven would do. What Hell would do learning a demon had begun to express  _ love  _ as commonly as hate. There would be no happy ending if Aziraphale expressed how he felt in return. Be it by divine intervention, demonic influences, or Crowley’s own actions when it all turned very dire, it would end too quickly. And hurt. 

Fingers pressed into Aziraphale’s cheeks, short nails barely hurting as he let out a small sob. 


	2. Like A River Flows, Surely To The Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's perspective is specifically set to Tommee Proffit and Brooke's 'Can't Help Falling In Love', dark version.

**1793, Paris, France**

Only a fool would get caught up in the French’s Revolution in the name of  _ crépes _ . A stunning one, but a fool nonetheless and Crowley still wore a frown as they sat in the quieter half of Paris away from the revolutionist. Away from the blood flooding the cobblestones and sound of barbaric machines parting heads from noble bodies. Not noble in what they did, but their wealth and views. Aziraphale was looking far more collected now, considering he had almost been in that position because of how he’d chosen to dress. Nicely, but clearly **noble**. 

Honestly, this angel was an adorable idiot.

Crowley turned his eyes to the thin desert in front of him. Drizzled in a fine coat of melted sugar and dried fruits, something hopefully more palatable since Aziraphale had insisted he tried them. Anything more sugary and sweet would be sickly, unlike the others. Drizzled with a good helping of hot chocolate and sugar, seeping from the inside and Crowley looked back at his own again. Refusing to glance up as he went to prod the food with his fork. 

Why did he care so much about the sugary state of some human treat? It was likely most of this was going to end up in the angel’s gut. 

Cutting through it lightly, gathering the edge on the end of his fork with a piece of fruit and sugar syrup Crowley brought the first bite up to his mouth. Placing it on his tongue and, after noticing the gaze on him, taking a moment to chew the food. Instinct wanted him to swallow it whole, but that ‘defeated the point of enjoying food’ as Aziraphale had once scolded. 

Sweet exploded in his mouth and, unable to hold it back, Crowley sat a little straighter and felt his tongue flick out to taint it with the less sweeter air. “Urgh, how can you enjoy this enough to almost be discorporated?” 

Aziraphale gave a put out expression, brows furrowing and a slight pout forming. “Now really, it’s not that bad Crowley.”

“It isss. It’s sugar, on sugar, on  _ ssssugar _ . Hell only knows how you can stomach it when covered in that much hot chocolate.” Even the dried fruits were too sugary, to preserve them, maybe, but it was like they were pure sugar over fruit. Placing his fork down, Crowley pushed the plate away. 

Snakes didn’t exactly taste things, and Crowley didn’t exactly live a tasteless life, but his mouth was highly offended by the mixture of smelling the sugar and tasting it. His forked tongue flickered again, cleansing his pallet of the hyper taste. 

That hurt expression continued on Aziraphale’s face, but as he moved to enjoy his own food no retort came. As was customary, meals were filled with silence while they ate. To let Aziraphale indulge and Crowley either digest if he’d eaten, or contemplate while he waited. What he had to contemplate today was little, except everything about this angel before him. Again wondering why he’d travelled across the channel for dessert. Not aware of how dangerous it had grown in France as tensions rose and guillotines dropped. 

It was idiocy. It was turning a blind eye to the greater issues and… and Crowley wanted to laugh at this angel. His enemy. If Crowley really wanted to, he could simply lay a plate of different sweets out and stab the angel in the back as he indulged. It would be easy to get angel blood on his hands, but the thought was chilling and he was above that. 

A demon, above one form of sin. How terrible. 

Just as terrible as an angel who was gluttonous and indulgent. 

Leaning back in his chair Crowley gave the angel the once over, wondering how they both had gotten so off track from their representative sides. A demon who was merely observing how cruel humans were without demonic influence, and an angel who embodied some of the lighter sins of humanity. Both somehow got away with it thanks to some clever memos to their bosses, and simply following their impulses embedded into their being. 

Crowley wished he found sinning as easy as the angel, as he only ever gave in to temptations and whispers, usually questions. Questions always brought about a lot of trouble. As did mild inconveniences. Lust would be nice - maybe. All the demons that specialised in that area always had fun, getting to work with all manner of people. Sloth was perhaps a close second, but when did you ever see someone who embodied sloth look good? 

  
Glancing to the side, eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he watched someone hurry by their table. Head down and worry clinging to them, a leather wallet barely visible from their coat pocket and Crowley satisfied an itch while thinking on his own incarnation of sin. Reaching out at the right moment he caught the edge of the wallet, pulling it from the pocket and the passerby was none the wiser as he turned the corner. Aziraphale was giving a disapproving look, mouth tight in his displeasure around the fork and Crowley just shrugged as he inspected his stolen goods. Peering at the papers inside, most money but one was a letter written in neat writing with a locket placed inside the folded letter. It had dropped to the table a little noisily when the square of paper was unfolded, and Crowley frowned at it. 

He miracled the letter and locket back into the pocket, but kept the wallet and money for himself. Pocketing the wallet inside his coat. 

“Really, Crowley…”

“I gave back the important stuff. Won’t even miss it. An-- and you don’t know what it’s like, when the urge comes over and you  _ itch _ .” He’d stolen worse. Crowley was gathering a nice collection of the finest pocket watches made of gold currently. One he was tempted to give to Aziraphale, once it lost the air of ‘I was stolen!’ that was still clinging onto it. 

“No, I wouldn’t know what it’s like. The urge to steal is very much a demonic one.” Aziraphale shook his head, taking another bite of his crépe and only letting out a light sigh as the chocolate filled his mouth. 

Crowley made a small series of noises, before speaking. “Mmyeah- well… ngk, shut it angel. While people are losing their heads, I’d rather not get into a debate on the differences between good and evil. We’d be here for a good decade with the cruelty of humans right in front of us.”

“Dear, please stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what?”

For a moment, Crowley was lost on what was being brought up, thinking he hadn’t used anything specific. He moved to frown directly at Aziraphale by tilting his head, lost thinking over his previous words before the angel elaborated. “Angel. It’s too obvious and… well, it doesn’t sound right from your mouth.”

Both brows rose and Crowley felt heat in his cheeks. He had used that, hadn’t he? More than once today, and over the past five thousand years Crowley had barely uttered the word more than a handful of times. Twice in one day was excessive, but it felt natural in the cell and here he wanted to tease their differences when it was rudely shoved in his face. Having it pointed out, told it didn’t sound right from him, was both embarrassing and exhilarating. Like he was breaking some unknown rule. “D-doesn’t sound right? Whyitswell, it’s a word, I can use it however I want! You use demon enough it may as well be my name.” 

“But I don’t, and really humans have taken to use it as a… term of endearment. It sounds all wrong from you.”

Crowley stared. It was in his nature to not blink often, but truly he found himself staring as the angel (he was determined to use that word more now) looked away. Flustered a little at expanding on the reasoning, 

  
“Oh, I’m sorry. Wouldn’t want people thinking we’re anything more than associates now, would we  _ angel _ .”

  
“Crowley-”

“Of course you probably hate hearing a demon utter what you are so casually. How dare a demon call you an  _ angel _ , am I right?”

“ _ Crowley, please-- _ ”

The only sweet thing Crowley wanted in his mouth from now on was this single word. “ _ Angel _ ,” he purred a little with a smirk. Watching the darkening cheeks of Aziraphale who spluttered, seemingly insulted by the term further. Maybe this was addicting, calling Aziraphale what he was. Having two meanings behind the word, a statement and endearment. Which Crowley meant he didn’t know yet, though the sweetness of the word lead him to believe the latter. It never tasted so sweet in the past. 

* * *

**4004BC, The Garden of Eden**

Crawley watched as the dark clouds parted finally to bring the first sign of the oncoming night sky. Indigo stretching above them and blending with the red hues of the setting sun, painting the sky in all manner of colours in between. Above the first few stars were starting to shine. Crawley adamantly didn’t look at them yet. 

Tentatively toeing the wet ground, the water that had fallen from the sky - rain Aziraphale explained some time during the downpour - it wasn’t blessed rain despite being upstairs’ creation. That was one worry out the way, it would be highly inconvenient if every time it decided to rain he had to find cover otherwise be melted into a puddle of gloop and nothings. Though the fact he’d been sheltered by the pure white wing lost some of the deep meaning. 

It was a nice act, being sheltered, but meaningless if the water wasn’t holy and did this angel know for the whole rainfall? Surely after the rain began to soak his robe he’d have known. Confusing. This angel was confusing to Crawley. A creature of grace handed his sword over, didn’t question or think, and then protected his enemy just in case. Said enemy was the reason he had ( ‘had’ wasn’t really the correct word, was it?) to give away his sword, and it was doing a number of weird things to Crawley’s chest. 

Did he admire this angel? No, to admire an angel would be to throw himself onto a holy weapon willingly and give in. Enticing was perhaps a better description. Enticing and a question needing an answer. Curiosity. To Crawley that was the biggest sin you could commit, be curious and ask expecting answers. Part of him wanted to follow this angel and see what happened next, or see how close to Falling he’d end up if he continued to be different.

Actually no, he didn’t want that last part. Not yet. That was no fun, and would give no real answers to how this angel worked if he became another one of them. 

The weird feeling in his chest had tightened at the concept of this single angel falling. 

Finally, as the darkness overtook more of the sky that tainted the red purple with a streak of pink, Crawley stepped from under the wing and glanced upwards to pull himself from his thoughts. Eyes staring at the stars he could see stretching across the dark sky and he felt his chest do more weird things, at seeing his creations from down below. Not around him and they still looked just as beautiful here. Hopefully the humans were looking at them as well. Liked them. It was one of the few memories of Heaven Crawley still had, and he’d be damned further if he didn’t feel any pride to them. 

Eyes glanced across from the bright star to the north, following a line that would in the future become a symbol of flowery daily predictions based on your birthday and then felt his eyes settle on a star glowing so brightly it demanded attention. A smaller one close by asking for similar attention but it wasn’t as eye catching as the other. “That one is my favourite.”

“Excuse me?”

Crawley tilted his head to glance at Aziraphale. Staring and uncaring if it made the angel uncomfortable. “I  _ said _ , and you should learn to listen better, that one is my favourite. Right there,” Crawley pointed to the bright star. Turning his head back to admire it as though basking under its heat that was lightyears away. 

Whether the angel looked or not wasn’t important, what mattered was seeing his creation in front of him. From afar and demanding attention. “It looks like a single star, from here. But  _ He  _ planned it to look like that… it’s really two. Well, three if you include the smaller one below. But two stars created to shine as one under a single name. It’s my favourite.”

Speaking on the stars, even if Crawley didn’t say he made them himself, brought such a warmth to him. Like he’d been basking all day instead of stood on a wall avoiding the rain. Hell didn’t have stars. Didn’t even had a sky. Just a never ending pit below them all clambering and fighting for space. Feathers lining the floors that did exist, burnt and ash with sobs and screams filling the space above their heads. If you dared to look up, vertigo would overtake you and leave you none the wiser to what was above.

“He? I’m sorry, I am listening but I am not sure who you are referring to. Though, I admit, the night sky really does look… down here, it puts the stars in a nicer perspective.” 

“ _ He _ is not important. Not anymore, can’t even remember his name. Was just an angel. But you’re right, up here does put the stars in a nicer perspective.”

  
“Up? But it’s… oh, wait. Yes.” Azirphale seemed to fuss nervously at catching Crawley’s meaning. Wings stretching a little, then curling against his back before he turned to look at the demon with a frown. “Surprised you can remember anything from above.”

“Only bits. Almighty made sure those who hath sinned remain punished long after the Fall. No name, nor love shall bless thy soul but vague memories shall torment thee.” It wasn’t what She said, in honesty She’d said nothing, but Crawley wanted to be dramatic. It made him feel a little better when faced with his creations for the first time since he’d Fallen. 

Reaching a hand out, fingers curling loosely around the brights stars as though he was holding them, Crawley wished he could have stolen them before he fell. Tucked them away from everyone’s sight. Snapping his fingers closed into a fist, a wicked smirk formed on his face at the thought. “Well, this was fun, and I appreciate the gesture of keeping me dry, but I should report to my boss that the tempting was done. Had my fun, apple bitten and off the humans go with thrilling thoughts. Starting to think the Almighty enjoys watching Her creations fail Her demands.”

Aziraphale frowned more, confusion and anger there. “If you hadn’t done the tempting, the Almighty wouldn’t have had to punish them demon.”

“Oh angel, but where’sss the fun in playing Her game by the rulessss?”

The shape that had been Crawley grew scales and slowly sank to the wall. Taking on the shape of a snake again allowing the demon to slither down to the damp soil that opened up for him to descend back into Hell. Upon his belly he would go, as it was easier to hide his thoughts in this form. How the word angel had burnt his tongue but fell so easily without mirth and perhaps a little bit of fondness. 

* * *

**1793, Paris, France**

The word still rolled on his tongue, to the tip of the forked end and for good measure Crowley flicked it out. Seeing the expression Aziraphale gave him for it and he grinned wide. Oh it truly did taste sweet on his tongue, the heat and embarrassment from the angel intoxicating to Crowley and he definitely wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Maybe by the end of the next century, if it got boring quickly. 

Aziraphale clearly didn’t enjoy it, in a way that didn’t outright say it was upsetting. Rather frustration and enjoyment, as Crowley never intended to upset the angel. Enjoyed his company, their friendship, the bite between them followed by this sweetness of old friends. Leaning back in his chair, Crowley covered his smile with his hand. Fingers parting just enough that the glint of his teeth would still be seen and put the angel on edge. 

Despite his teasing, his grin, slowly Aziraphale let out a sigh. Glancing down at his plate, and a slow chuckle left him. Causing Crowley to frown back suddenly, finding his game highly disturbed if Aziraphale was going to start laughing now. “What?”

“Nothing my dear. This just isn’t how I envisioned my day. Getting captured by the locals, rescued by my enemy and then treating him to food while he mocks me. Oh, wait. Treating myself to food while he mocks me. You aren’t exactly eating.” Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley again, his eyes catching the sun with delightful amusement and for a moment Crowley felt his breath being stolen. 

A faint flush formed behind Crowley’s hand, yellow creeping across the white of his eyes at the sudden shock of the sight. Then he sharply turned his head away, hand sliding more to cover his exposed cheek to prevent the angel seeing his reaction. It was easier mocking Aziraphale when he wasn’t looking gorgeous. 

Thinking back to earlier, Crowley definitely felt if he was a demon who inhabited lust as his sin it would be far easier to deal with this angel. 

No tightness in his chest, no warmth that felt unnatural to his body, and maybe he could act on whatever feelings he had. Like the sudden gut instinct to kiss the stupid angel. Fingers pressed in firmer to his cheek. “Mmmyeah, you’re an ang-- you’re you. Ain’t capable of anything but kindness, even to your adversary.” 

“Aah! That made you stop saying the word!” 

Narrowing his eyes, Crowley sunk more into his chair and was grateful for his glasses and position. Black slitted pupils did look across at Aziraphale, and out of sheer stubbornness Crowley hissed, “angle. You’re such an  _ angle _ .” 

A stony look came back, and Aziraphale stubbornly went back to enjoying his food. 

“You’re an acute angle…” Crowley added much quieter, not even noticed by the angel who was back to enjoying his crépes. Five thousand years and the spark of curiosity about this angel had yet to fade. The warmth in his chest only growing stronger, fluttering making him uncomfortable and Crowley wished he could do more out loud. Not fear that he might taint the angel, cause him to fall. Or be laughed at. Crowley didn’t know which was worse at this point. 

Making a noise in the back of his throat, Crowley quickly pushed this hurt and confusion away. Not wanting to taint this, what they had, too much by his pessimistic attitude. Rather he chose to focus on how the angel indulged, relaxed and content and Crowley didn’t move until he went to stab the hand that went to pull his plate away without asking. Listened to the offended exclamation of pain and Crowley popped a single dried fruit into his mouth with a weak smile.

Crowley loved this damn angel, and it hurt to admit it.


	3. Some Things Are Meant To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God's perspective was written to Pentatonix's cover of 'Can't Help Falling In Love'.

**Saturday, Five minutes after Armageddon should have begun**

God did not play games with the universe. For She created it from love, of Her angels and to create upon a world to enjoy their creations. It was not from greed, or a plan for the greater good or evil. Merely an act of love, which the purest of Her children took upon themselves to use as a game She had a long time ago stepped away from the board of to then commence Her own play. 

For God loves all Her creations, the good and bad. She just does not say it loudly for it would still be lost to their ears. 

Observing from Her place in Heaven, in the highest plane where no angels dare grace without invitation, She had observed for many millennia. Occasional anger, a few fits of rage, but equally, or more often, a lot of love of their progress. 

Watching that Saturday, just over six millennia since the Earth’s birth, She had hoped while watching Her children play out their own game. The pieces in place and aligned on the board, both sides aware of two pieces out of place but more determined with the war to care. 

When Crowley stopped time, bringing Lucifer to a stop in his ascent to the Earth’s surface, the same thought had not been expanded towards Her. Maybe not his concern, and so She had watched. As they graced the desert of Her garden, her Eden, and spoke. Acting as they had meant to for a decade, and a small fond smile spread across Her lips. Guiding Her grandchild to make a choice, his own choice, and perhaps making their own. Not against their sides, no. But of their hearts. 

God did not play games, even as she toyed with a deck of cards in her hands. Half white, half black. Shuffling them as the Almighty observed, wondered, and saw that glance Her angel of the eastern gate gave to Her fallen child. The hope and love, so brief but there and She stilled Her hand. Watching as Her other child glanced across, eyes masked but he never was good at hiding his feelings around this angel. That softness showing and there, before turning back to the young boy between them. 

Placing the deck down, Her hand hovered over the cards before moving to cut them in half. Thinking back to the rebellion, that had been necessary. For disobedience was not something She could allow, so simply. What kind of mother would She be if She shows no form of harsh love? It was needed, as cruel it would seem to the child. The seed of distrust had to be thrown out, and although She had dearly loved Her child who painted the sky with beautiful creations for Her, stardust clinging to him as he flew through the never ending darkness, the questions he asked had ended him in the same trouble. Curiosity was his only Sin, desire for knowledge to his answers, but even as She watched Her love be burned away She knew, for the greater good, this would be needed. 

For she already knew how Lucifer would act, how Her words would be taken, and She needed to play Her own game. 

Lifting Her hands away from the two halves of Her deck, God smiled as she went to turn the top cards of both halves. Revealing them to be both grey, the only ones in this set, more prized to Her than a king or queen. These cards were their own suit. Neither were of Heaven or Hell, for these were Her special children. Part of Her ineffable plan to ensure Her creations could continue to live in Her love past this war of Heaven and Hell. 

One card, placed on the right, was a drawing of a black demon set against a grey background. Twisted from the waist down, tail reaching upwards and wings blackened, outlined in pearly white to help stand out against the darker card. Only, unlike the other demons on blackened cards, this one had long flaming red hair and golden eyes that caught the light and shined. A broken halo of stardust and in his hands half of a circle in white. No malice clung to the drawing, no hate, simply curiosity and longing conveyed in a smile. 

The other card was a drawing of an angel, also against a grey background and placed to the left. Ethereal, pure and white. White wings, all six, spread to all four corners of the card and quite beautiful. But if you compare it to any other card of Heaven, this one had his eyes closed. Halo golden and drawings of startling pale eyes across his skin. Staring back with love while carefully in his hands he held the other half of a circle. Black and a heavy contrast to the white of the angel. 

Pushing both cards along the table, together they made a complete image. An angel, and a demon, holding the world together - the good and the bad side of it - and loving it unconditionally as She had wished. An angel embracing the bad unconditionally, and the demon holding onto the good aware of its worth. These were perhaps Her greatest achievements and She looked back at Her children. Holding hands with the Antichrist, protecting him from what may come. 

It was pure chance that Azirapahale had been guarding the wall, and further chance that Crawley slithered up the wall to tease the angel watching his charges leave across the desert. It was truly ineffable they meet, the curious and the thinker. God had only crafted the deck, shuffled the cards and watched it fall into place with every new card drawn. 

But She would not have it any other way. 

Except allowing Her demonic child to feel love, and Her angelic child to trust in his feelings more.

**????BC, Heaven**

“Mother, look at the stars I have created for you.”

God listened as Her child with flaming red hair spoke fondly to Her from where he rested, hands stretched out and coated with stardust and singed from Her Heavenly fire he’d used to bring the stars to life. The creation of new stars complete, lighting the sky beneath Heaven beautifully and a fondness grew in Her chest as She watched Her child smile. Still reaching out just as enamoured with his creations. The gold in his wings tips caught the star light, turning it many different colours. Just like the golden flakes across one cheek. Like the stars he created. His eyes were a true reflection of the skies however, so pale they caught the starlight and it looked as though his eyes contained his creations with how golden they shined. Maybe they did. 

“I hope you like them. I put a lot of love into them for you, each one special. Though this one is my favourite, these three. Up close you can tell they’re separate but farther away… they’ll glow as one, almost. One constellation that will confuse others, just a little.” 

The gleam to his eyes wasn’t caused by the starlight then, just his mischief and finally hands retreated to his body. Resting against his white robe and wings spreading wide. Caressing the stardust that floated through the space.Trapping beneath the feathers and adding more gold to those wings. Mischief was as part of this angel as much as his love. As his desire to create and mend. 

God didn’t play favourites, but he was one of the few She could consider being so if she did. 

Reaching out, with Her essence, She made sure Her child could feel Her love for his creations. Watching as a small sound escaped the angel, eyes fluttering closed as he inhaled deeply. Then arms went around himself, holding himself tightly in a hug as he felt Her love so strongly. God would have enjoyed the embrace if She hadn’t felt the first small seed of doubt placed within his mind. 

**????BC, Heaven, before the Rebellion**

Lucifer had stood fast in front of Her, asking why Her love was being stretched to a creation not yet made. Why She wished to create a world for another being to inhabit shaped in the angel’s form but not angelic. Why She would cast a being from Heaven. 

A lot of whys. A lot of questions.

Sadness over took God’s face as She stared at Her defiant child. Feeling the lack of faith, the distrust and freewill like poison to him. It had hurt. But so had seeing the children behind him, some just as venomous in their looks and some tainted with curiosity to Her choices. Clearly led astray and too far, that it had pained Her to turn Her back on them all. Though not before She caught sight of flaming red hair to the side of the crowd, wings curled behind his back and stardust still clinging as he uttered in a soft voice filled with doubt. “Mother, why? Are your next creations to do wrong?”

Maybe he hadn’t been part of the angels gathered against Her, maybe he was truly only curious and confused by that doubt Lucifer had planted in his mind. But when She turned to Michael, who drew a Holy spear, She could not watch as those who asked were fought out of Heaven and cast to Fall. 

**Saturday, Seven minutes after Armageddon should have begun**

The smoke breaking apart Lucifer was not a bittersweet moment to God, watching Her darkest child be cast back into Hell by his son’s will. Lucifer had been loyal once, desired whatever God had asked but that surely was asking a lot in hindsight. She knew better now, even though clearly pulling away from Her creations - angelic and human - had caused only more pain in the long run. 

As the smoke did clear, the smell of brimstone fading with it, Her eyes did cast from Her once-grandchild who stood definitely then behind him. Her two children stood together now, closer than before as they looked around. Confused, hopeful and relieved. And, not too surprisingly, holding hands tightly. Maybe in the final moments of encouragement they’d unconsciously reached out to hold hands. Or Adam had brought them closer together like their shared glance outside of Eden had indicated. 

No fear in their hearts, that was oh so filled with love. 

Turning Her attention to the two laid out cards, the angel and the demon, God smiled fondly. It was ineffable, their story. Their joined history, pain and closeness. And hopefully, this would begin a new chapter for the pair. One without fear in their hearts, holding them back for she wanted to see them happy. As neither Heaven or Hell would accept their drifted brothers. 

As Her fallen child squeezed tightly Her angel’s hand, relief obvious as he spoke, God did notice that the cards She had laid before Her had changed so slightly. The designs identical, before reality had shifted to the will of a demonic child, but while before both hands had held previously, the half circles now only were braced braced by one. Arms curving to hold the shape to the edge of the card, while the other hand was free now to hang down. Laid together, those hands met and fingers were entwined with the others. Her once-grandson clearly had a similar observation about allowing love to overcome their ethereal differences. 


	4. Would It Be a Sin, If I Can’t Help, Falling In Love With You

**Monday, Two Days Into The Rest Of Their Lives, Soho, London**

The first kiss happened at the Ritz. After toasting to the world, both content with the outcome, Aziraphale had reached across the table as they began to talk. At first the hand had settled between them, as words flowed, but then Aziraphale had moved to rest his over Crowley’s. Smiling softly and lovingly as the demon had flushed, glancing away as his sentence trailed into stuttered sounds. Enamoured, Aziraphale had brought Crowley’s hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. That had been their first kiss. 

Their second came when they entered the book shop, closing the door behind them with more calmness than they held in their thoughts. Both racing with questions, desires and wants that when Crowley turned around he let out a small sound when he suddenly had an angel pressing him against the door. Eyes eager and sorrowful, as though afraid of what he was doing. Crowley hadn’t liked that, so he’d closed the small gap between them. Lips shaking as he pressed them to Aziraphale’s, tasting the champagne and wine they’d enjoyed and hearing a small ‘oh’ escape softly. 

Slowly they began to learn each others lips, Crowley not rushing and Aziraphale clearly indulging. 

It was oh so human to express feelings through kissing, but their side was rather human at its core so it had felt so right. 

When they parted, Crowley’s hands holding Azirpahale’s waist and Azirpahle having wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck, the angel hadn’t fallen like Crowley had feared. And the demon hadn’t disappeared as Aziraphale had feared. Both were still there, panting lightly and cheeks flushed. 

  
“S-six thousands years angel…” Crowley finally croaked out. Quietly so no one, not Heaven or Hell, or passersby on the street outside could overhear them. His eyes felt damp behind his glasses, and perhaps they both realised at once how annoying they were in this moment. As Crowley had gone to remove them at the same time Aziraphale had. The angel reaching first and gently pulling them away, revealing snake eyes holding far too many emotions and unshed tears. 

There was sadness in Aziraphale’s own eyes, a small crease in his brows as - after miracling the glasses safely to his desk - he gently cupped Crowley’s cheek. Stroking thumb along heated skin and trying to soothe. “I know. I was blind, and then afraid… and I apologise. For I am no longer blind or afraid, just… hopeful.”

Leaning into the hand, Crowley felt raw and exposed. At the airbase something had changed, when they’d reached out for each others hands, but this as the outcome wasn’t expected. Not so quickly, or suddenly. It felt like he had to utter those cursed words to Azirpahle right now. “You really are a bit of a bastard then… if you kept saying those harsh words when you knew.” 

“Ah… but that makes me worth knowing, does it not?” Aziraphale smiled softly, thumb stilling before he continued softer, though fear clung to his voice. “I was afraid what they would do to you if they found out a demon was capable of loving. Not just someone, but an angel. It was easier to hide my knowledge and feelings. As painful that was, or selfish it was of me. Desiring to keep you for longer.” 

A sharp frown overcame Crowley’s face, eyes looking away and silence fell between them. Clearly he was thinking and after a long pause, he spoke. “I was afraid you’d fall… that it would be a sin to ever love a demon. That I-- I was tainting you slowly. But I couldn’t stop being selfish.”

“Love should never be a sin. I understand that now,” thumb moved again after Aziraphale whispered. Encouraging Crowley to look back at the enamoured look on the angel’s face usually reserved for something deeply human. Was love never not a sin? Romeo and Juliet’s love had been a sin in the play, and many families had been broken in real life by forbidden love. Love was surely as much of a sin as lust then, but why did it feel so pure? 

A third kiss broke Crowley from his thoughts, a sigh sounding between lips moving and he idly began to wonder if he could get a kiss for every year he’d waited for this. It wouldn’t be exactly six thousand, as there were several years when Crowley doubted Aziraphale being different or worth pinning for, but that simple turn of phrase in a dimly lit Roman bar had resparked any curiosity. It would be close to six thousand kisses however. 

Bringing hands to wrap around Aziraphale’s back, Crowley pulled his angel closer. Demanding all his attention greedily, in their languid kiss that only broke for Aziraphale to speak against his lips. “I love you, dear.”

A little more hungrily Crowley kissed back, his sharper teeth grazing his angel’s lower lip as he also shook. Overwhelmed and itching with the sensations he felt. The longing and desire, desire to be this angel’s forever now they could. Oh it hurt, but for all the right reasons. 

Flicking tongue across Aziraphale’s lips, Crowley groaned when they parted and let his tongue enter. Exploring and tasting the sweetness of the champagne, the deserts covered in sugar and chocolate reminding Crowley of crépes he disliked, yet in Aziraphale’s mouth? It was passable, and his tongue flicked before wrapping around the angel’s. 

When the fourth, or was it fifth, kiss broke off Crowley let out a small sound before opening his eyes slightly. Staring at the flushed face of Aziraphale, how his pale blue eyes were darkened slightly and pupils wider. It was a beautiful sight. “My angel…” Crowley practically purred the words, eyes half shut as he felt relaxed and overly content. Fingers stroking along his angel’s back, being gentle even if he wanted to bury into Aziraphale. Seek his warmth and not let go. 

“You know, I have truly come to enjoy hearing you call me that… though I think I appreciate it more when you call me yours,” Aziraphale spoke softly, smiling as he brought a hand to stroke the short hairs at Crowley’s nape. Letting all his love be felt by the demon, who shivered under it and closed his eyes slowly. Basking in that warmth he was seeking, in the feeling of being loved and adored and sensing what Crowley needed, Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley down. Bringing him to rest at his shoulder, held close and smiling more when Crowley nuzzled into his neck and jaw. “My dear, it’s okay. My love is not going anywhere.”

There was mumbled nonsense, Crowley not committing to forming a real sentence but he was smiling. As the ache of thousands of years was soothed slightly, knowing that they had the rest of their lives ahead of them. Fingers clung to Aziraphale’s jacket, and Crowley was content with that knowledge of a changed future for them both. 

**Author's Note:**

> I need to stop writing so many ideas. This is second of five I'm writing. _Second._ I blame music, a lot of these ideas are set to music.   
But I really enjoy character studies and insights, especially for these two idiots. So I wanted to write something a little more focused on their love for each other through the years, especially as I'm finally reading the book. I had fears of reading the book because it moved around a lot. Instead it made me a little more open to trying to jump in my writing and not be so linear.


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